


Fashion for the Fettered

by GettingMetaphysical



Series: All by Myself: A Doctorcest Storyline [3]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Anal Sex, Doctorcest, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mind Meld, Mind Sex, Self-cest, doctorbation - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 09:19:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Explicit Sex - Warning
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3204023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GettingMetaphysical/pseuds/GettingMetaphysical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Sixth Doctor decides to pay a visit to his Third self, and what does the ungrateful dandy do? Insult his clothing - even trying to take it off! Well, the Doctor shan't go down without a fight, although he might just go down for something more important...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fashion for the Fettered

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, Three and Six. Two divas in the same room - such fun!
> 
> * * *

  
”Who did this to me?” the Third Doctor demands, as he paces around his guest. ”Which monster of a tailor concocted this? And more importantly, _why_ in the whole wide universe am I _wearing_ it?”

The Sixth Doctor glares, arms crossed and feet planted in the middle of the younger Time Lord’s TARDIS console room.

”By all divinities, Doctor, this disapproval of yours is frankly childish. Had I no manners?”

”Don’t you lecture me about manners,” Three says, pointing at himself, cheeks pinkening to match the other man’s. ”If anything’s childish, it’s your waistcoat. _Teddy bear buttons_? Am I taking the piss out of me?”

”Piss? Piss? What’s gotten into you? Piss! I happen to be aesthetically _evolved_ enough to appreciate this style. I’ll have me know that am at the very height of fashion in some galaxies.”

”Really?” With a sweet smile, Three puts his hands on hips. ”Which ones?”

Head held high, the Doctor sniffs. ”Impossible to pronounce by our tongue and tooth.”

”Considering my unfortunate state of mind, I would’ve trusted that more if you had just made some names up.”

Blast. The dandy has a point.

The Doctor doesn’t know whether to laugh or scold his younger self for this insolence. When he’d first showed up with a tap on the lab window, it didn’t take much for the exiled Doctor to realize who he was. The same inexplicably flirty tone their Fourth usually used for greeting him; a snap to the forehead that reminded him of the Sixth’s appearance in the memory of their Second incarnation…

For fear of being seen and questioned, the Time Lord had helped pull the familiar-but-new sight in through the window frame and marched them both into the stranded TARDIS. The good old view of Three’s red velvet jacket, pressed black trousers, shiny black bow tie, and the collar just a bit less white and fluffy than his hair had made words like _impeccable, debonair_ , and unfortunately, _pedestrian_ swim through the Sixth’s linguist mind.

In hindsight, the Third’s had seemed stuck on _preposterous, delirious_ and, though he never would’ve admitted it, _innovative_.

The other Doctor has been ranting for quite some time. Often, he moves toward the older man to illustrate the arguments; flicking a collar, pulling on a sleeve, even kneeling once to examine the bright orange spats and green shoes. Now, he takes some steps forward just to stare harder at his firmly rooted future.

”I wouldn’t be caught dead or alive in that get-up, you know. I have a hard time believing I’d change my mind.”

”Yes, well, you’re _young_ , you whippersnapper,” Six says, puffing up his chest. ”Your tastes will mature in time.”

”Whippersnapper, am I?” Three says. ”Yes, well, perhaps; you do look as if you’ve rather let yourself go to seed, old chap. I wonder, can you still do _this_?”

One grip, one throw, and the colourful Doctor is whipped to the floor.

”Hai!” Three swings his leg out of the way of Six’s attacking arms. After dodging, he swiftly kneels to grab them, pulling the elder to his feet, and locking his arms from behind.

”You let me go this instant, young man!”

”Pity to lose the Venusian aikido.” Three’s breath is right in his ear. ”It’s rather useful.”

”I’ll show you useful!”

Six hauls forward, slamming them both to the ground. He’s attempting to roll Three over and keep him there, but Three gathers himself and pushes back.

”Don’t think you can win this–” he tries twisting the elder’s arm, ”by surprising yourself.”

The Doctor does twist, but throws himself aside, pulling the other to his stomach.

”I’ve no need,” Six jeers, hooking a leg over Three’s. ”I’m _twice_ the man you are!”

”Twi–? Oh, now you’ve _really_ done it!”

”Not yet, big b–oof!”

The wrestling is delightfully brutal. Lots of rolling around, turning grips into throws. As soon as one mounts the other, his victory is thwarted by clever utilization of momentum and weight.

Then, there’s a shift in intention. There’s a point at which playful mock-anger becomes… simply play. Whether it’s because of all the mounting, or the rush of adrenaline, or because the Doctor is dealing with having these particular two incarnations together, the younger too restless and the elder too impulsive, Three ends up straddling Six.

Six doesn’t launch to grab Three by the arm, nor does he try to roll them. No, he waits those extra seconds, allowing the leaner man to pin his hands to the floor.

”Look who’s on his back. At least now I don’t have to endure the ghastly stripes of it.”

”Your insults are petty and unimaginative,” Six scoffs. ”And your trousers are boring, too.”

Three smiles. ”Still, good to see I’ll be strong.”

”Good to be reminded I am,” Six says snootily.

”Now, what to do with you… You certainly could do without that cravat; it’s a horrid adornment for a fit neck.”

” _What_ are you–”

The Doctor gets a face-full of white fluffy hair and a whip of fabric, followed by the sight of his Third self towering above him, stretched yellow tie between his teeth. Fastidiously, his younger self flings it away.

”How dare you! My cravat is essential for tying my outfit together.”

Three scoffs. ”Keeping your ego-swollen head tied to your shoulders, perhaps.”

”Why don’t your put your meandering mouth to actual use instead of making juvenile attempt to insult yourse–ah! O-oh~!”

Three’s lips, Three’s tongue is under his collar, and Six is shivering and bucking his hips and when _the hell_ did they both get this hard?

They help each other out of jacket and coat, fumbling with buttons, wild hands roaming over paradoxically familiar skin. The quilt-like coat and waistcoat become a makeshift bedsheet, the jacket and frilly shirt are pillows for Six’s head and the small of his back.

The younger Time Lord breaks a deep kiss, panting.

”You too, old chap?” His eyes dart around – realizes the position he’s put himself in. ”I never dropped that, did I?”

”All in due time, my dear Doctor.”

The Third shakes his head, takes a deep breath. Then he settles on the other’s ample thighs to undo the yellow-striped trousers.

”Oh for goodness’ sake!” Three exclaims, gesturing with consternation at his future crotch. ”Who’d even think to combine salmon, mint and bloody _brown_ in a tie-dye?”

”You’re the pretentious git wearing wine-red stockings and garters to work,” Six smirks. ”Go on, prove me wrong.”

Three rolls his eyes, and proceeds to reveal exactly that beneath the black. Neither of their undergarments are evaluated for long, though, mostly tossed aside with shoes and leg wear in favour of superbly slippery grinding.

The past Doctor links their fingers together, pressing down to keep his future from, well… from what? Grabbing him, flipping them over, taking control? Six enjoys the crushing kisses, groans at Three’s mouth, his teeth, and _ooh yes, yes that tongue_ all over his neck and shoulders. He’s happy to let go while he takes out his past frustrations on himself.

Yes, this is where Three gets desperate. Where he starts biting, like he wants to scrape the sparks of space off of his future skin, wants to trace the time with his tongue. Where he wants to satisfy his future body, and therefore his own; subsume into himself, like it would make his butchered mind whole again.

Three halts his movements, and they share a look. His lined face carries a very young expression; asking permission but really pleading.

”It’s fine.” The older Doctor rest his head on the velvet. ”Go ahead.”

His spread legs are folded up. Hands glide along his sides, caressing all of him in reach. There’s a throaty groan from both when Three works his slicked cock in, trying to start slow. Although the Doctor wouldn’t blame himself for thrusting a little too roughly a little too soon – Six just moans, then laughs, wrapping his limbs around himself.

Until Three shuts him up, kissing him into distraction as he reaches out with his mind. Six lets his laughter spill over the dams of their connected minds, before ripping Three open and heaving himself inside. No time for settling, for where there should be a figurative wedge of knowledge in the flowing sphere that is the Third Doctor’s consciousness, there is nothing but empty space. A nothingness that is edged with sizzling and oozing, nagging despair.

Left alone for so long, trammeled and incomplete, the young Time Lord hungers.

And right there, his Sixth self sets off fireworks, _laughing_ like the boom of it could fill oceans, like the bubbling broth of joy and sex could mean relief.

It does, it…

It’s relief, it’s aloe vera and chocolate and velvet and cotton. It’s orange and teal twisting together, bursts of purple and green, it’s fine wine and it’s warranted hope. Yes, my dear, it’ll be _freedom_ , and _we’re coming_!

~*~*~*~

Three’s deep, ragged voice murmurs their name between kisses, lulling like a song, still grinding against him leisurely. Six coils under him, savoring every sensation. And now that they’re free, his hands secretly marvel at the muscle rippling in Three’s back.

They snap apart at the sound of a high voice outside.    
”Doctor? Doctor, are you here?”

Jo Grant bangs on the TARDIS doors. Turned towards them, the Third doesn’t notice his future smile.

”Yes, my dear.” He sharpens his voice: ”Give me fifteen minutes, please, I’m quite busy and I’d rather not be disturbed.”

”Oh, it’s alright. Nothing’s on fire, I just wondered where you’d gone,” Jo calls back. ”Though maybe you should come out. In case of a fire. Right, sorry, I’ll leave.”

”Yes, goodbye,” Three says weakly.

They hear boots clopping away and the lab door thrown shut.

”Thank goodness, I thought I’d be caught bare-arsed.”

”Oh be quiet, that was close.” Three rubs his neck. ”Must you be so loud? Maybe that’s why she came in in the first place…”

”Pish-posh, I know how I felt.” Six sits up on the spread of clothes. ”You were disappointed that the old girl locked the doors; you love it that you can compel me to forgo discretion.”

Three jerks his hands down, pressing his lips together. Heh. Like slamming a nail all the way in on the first try.

”So.” The older Doctor scoots over, lays his arms over broad shoulders. ”Shall I tutor you in refining your sense of dress, or do you mean to keep your word on those fifteen minutes?”

”Is it really fine?”

”Hm? Oh, you mean… yes,” Six says lightly. ”How else would you attain contact? The only other Time Lord around is–”

”–Not an option.” Three scowls. ”I’m not a fool.”

”You are an extraordinary fool, but that’s beside your otherwise sensible point.”

Three’s tall frame slumps in his embrace. Six buries his nose in white locks.

”It’s alright, Doctor.”

”Don’t. Don’t try to… I know.” His past snuggles his cheek against his chest. ”Shut up.”

”Whiny whippersnapper.”

Three snorts.

”Maybe half an hour. To tie my ego back down.”

”And nothing else, I’m sure,” Six drawls.

”I thought I told you to shut up.”

”I ought to teach you to respect your elders.”

The Third Doctor turns and shoves him onto the multicoloured spread. The Sixth Doctor lands without even a pretense at struggle – just an appreciative smirk, reflected by his past face.

”Once my elders are respectable _and presentable_ , I’ll make sure to be on my best behavior.”

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story archived at <http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=55363>


End file.
